sharing is caring, so I obviously care a lot.

So today is a busy day at work, as usual. But mid facebook chat I noticed that I had a new email in my inbox! How exciting. The suspense was killing me… Was it one of my daily newsletters on how to tone my thighs and butt? Maybe an update from Amazon on things I should buy but never will? Or possibly one of the twenty e-mails back and forth with my mother?

Maybe, just maybe, it was something super important like my daily horoscope!

I quickly brb’d my friend on fb and clicked to my other tab. Oh, what a pleasant surprise, it was an email from my boyfriend.

Subject line: “i think we should try this”

Fear crept over me… I quickly did an over-the-shoulder glance around to make sure no one would see what could potentially get me fired.

I clicked. What I discovered was a woman who allowed her boyfriend to pick out her outfits for a whole week. It was entertaining and in his defense he actually did a pretty good job!

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***So I thought about it and wondered what my experience would be like if I tried this (as my boyfriend suggested).***

Day 1- Apparently my boyfriend has forgotten I work at a middle school and has picked out a small black dress with high heels and a push up bra.

Day 2- This skirt is WAY too short for work, thank god I sit behind a desk most of the day. The tank-top really makes it over the top skanky but at least he gave me a blazer to look “professional.”

Day 3- This is lingerie! NOT CLOTHES. No dear, the scarf doesn’t make it trendy.

Day 4- I have been fired. Thank you for the sweatpants and oversized t-shirt so I can cry on the couch all day.

Day 5- My highschool cheerleading uniform?! Please dress me more appropriately so I can leave the house to run errands and look for a new job. PLEASE.

Day 6- NO, I will not wear the slutty Halloween pumpkin outfit to dinner with your parents. NO. I don’t care if the place we’re going to is informal! Besides I really can’t walk in those heels, no seriously, I can’t.

Day 7– My swimsuit? Really?! The boots do NOT tone it down. What the hell is wrong with you? This is not Farmer’s Market appropriate. Oh you think a belt would do the trick? I can’t even look at you right now…

A girlfriend of mine recently asked me why men no longer open doors for women.

Her question was a valid one seeing as I had been a victim of the rude door in your face (the only evidence left behind, the scent of his poorly chosen cologne). Or my personal favorite: the man who rushes past you to the door only to enter and not to open and hold it for you.

As an observant woman I have long been aware that men only have one arm.Where is their other arm you ask?Where it has been since the age of Adam, on their dick.We accept this and do not dare to bat an eyelash at the mass population of males constantly adjusting, scratching and holding their johnsons, both in public and in private. But even with an arm occupied with one’s member there is another to open doors, right? So what has happened to the free arm?

This was answered quite simply one morning in a hotel room as I was lying next to my boyfriend.He was busy chatting away to some business colleague of his and I was pondering the day’s events when suddenly the answer was right in front of me.The blackberry!There he was, the perfect male specimen… one hand down his underwear and the other cradling his precious blackberry.I watched in utter amusement at my armless boyfriend and knew that I had solved my girlfriend’s mystery.A society of armless men, desperately clinging to their two most prized possessions: genitals and gigabytes.

A few days later, after my Nancy Drew epiphany, I journeyed to the Mall’s Macy’s entrance and a most peculiar thing happened.A man rushed past me towards the door. I was no spring chicken and began speed walking in an attempt to beat the SOB.His longer legs secured his win.But, wait.He was stopping.Could it be? Yes, the man opened the door, held it open! When I turned and gave him a heartfelt thank you he simply replied, “no need to thank, it’s what a man ought to do.” And just like that his fast long legs whisked him away to the Men’s department. In a moment of elation I wondered if in fact men did still have arms.